by Richard Vazquez

Richard L Vazquez, originally from Delaware, is a former student of NYU Dramatic Writing program. He is currently working in the computer industry to pay for his habit of writing, and is cuurently living somewhere between Arizona and New Mexico trying to find places to put pages of poetry from over the years.

Twice this week
I mentioned what happened.
Nothing responded
Except an eye's fire
telling me the day would be fine
so long as I shut the hell up.

At the party
She drank a little
too much of the grain.
Her voice raised
and finally she mentioned it
a little too loud,
Her breath and tears telling the room
to shut the hell up and forget.

At home in my arms
She beat on my chest and cursed me;
She loved me too much because I loved her too much.
I talked w/ my lips aainst her fevered head
Saying we'd continue slowly
We all have faults
She didn't have to tell me his name or why
or where his lips pressed.
I apologized she loved me so much
& as she slept breathing heavy - forgave
& shut myself up in hell.

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